I lay awake a night of squalling rain
and list for that I heard once long ago,
of pipe and string that plied a mournful strain,
an Elfish song of sorrow, sage and slow.

‘Twas heard by me the first when but a child,
a song of ruthe amidst a nameless storm.
Though lyricless it spoke of faith defiled
and false respect that took a heinous form.

When quills are dipped in vessels and veins,
when ink is but a shade of red,
then all they'd spell are woes and pains,
and stories of less happy ends.

Where all we tread is out of lamps,
and quills are dipped in vessels and veins,
then how to feet happy iambs,
the lands we live are all insane.

When all the words just yell in vain
in lands that turn to battle fields,
and quills are dipped in vessels and veins,
can the words be then a real shield?

Paint me red

I paint a light
when tis darkness and others can't see
Fluorescence paint is needed for me
to ensure they can see
my silhouette
out in the darkness
a vision of the only one
of a kind of me

your own take friend
that's me.....
now there is no more glee
no light for me
this is what I in your poetry see
won’t call it blasphemy
as distance alone
lends beauty to a scene

we have once good friends been...
haven’t we?

Leaves of my soul
flutter in the fall,
lay offering, but
detached in time

absolute as another
breathtaking vision,
assaults my senses
to thieve breath

The offering Plate of life
Is passed at the end,
now naked I confess
I am bankrupt of hope

The shade of tomorrow
Fades into the distance,
mercy holds empty hands
Bereft of miracles, sigh

forever in awe of compassion
it touches ever more gently,
capturing a piece of beauty
for the heart of my mind